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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174782">Some got left behind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/preferredmethodofprocrastination/pseuds/preferredmethodofprocrastination'>preferredmethodofprocrastination</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who &amp; Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Family Bonding, Grief/Mourning, Sad with a Happy Ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:07:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/preferredmethodofprocrastination/pseuds/preferredmethodofprocrastination</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>River and Brian bond in the garden of Amy and Rory's house after the events of the Angels Take Manhattan. Thanks to Hannah and the The Doctor &amp; River Song Discord for the inspiration.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Some got left behind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Brian left their house alone for a long time. He lost track of the time, lost track of the condolences, the explanations and the tears he’d shed. When he finally dared to unlock the door it creaked. It was a protest to the melancholy silence that filled the empty room, second only to the dripping sink, leaving a small rusty patch and a deadened plunk. The surfaces were coated in a thin layer of dust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Light crept through the windows in bright rays. He sat down, heavy, let the dust shatter the stillness in swirls of gold. Their things were strewn around, not untidy, just heavy with the expectation of return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some left me. Some got left behind. And some, not many but, some died. Not them. Not them, Brian. Never them.” The Doctor’s words echoed painfully in his ears beyond the dripping sink. He sat in a dusty armchair, trying to lift the ball of joyless tension from the pit of his stomach, but it rooted there for an hour. He stopped fighting the tears, but closed his eyes, facing the ceiling instead of the remnants of his child’s life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flash of light surprised him. Electricity snapped the peace of the room. A figure assembled itself in the kitchen, knit up from miniature lightning bolts. Once it was knit up, it slumped against the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook with sobs. She was of medium height. Cloud of curls caught the light. She wore jeans and a tan coat, carried a bag. He saw something in her eyes, red from crying. It was something of the grief that gripped his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He recognized her, from a photograph Rory had shown him. It was her in military fatigues, hair pulled up and back. She and Amy sat at the table in the back garden, laughing over glasses of wine. Rory stood behind Amy, pressing a kiss to her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d taken a while to understand when they’d told him. It had been odd, seeing their grief and not knowing how to help. He had wondered over the picture for a while, examining Rory and Amy’s faces, the River’s. He thought, maybe, she resembled them. A touch of Rory’s face in hers, a tinge of Amy’s red in her hair. Maybe there was something of Melody Williams left in River Song. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” he asked, standing from his chair. She saw him and yelped, staggered back towards the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” she said. She stood a little stiffly, peering at him for a moment, unsure what to do or say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be...” he started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“River,” she interrupted. “I’m a friend of the Doctor’s.” she paused again, unsure whether to continue. “I knew Amy and Rory,” she said, their names quiet in her mouth, a whisper of mourning. Rocks sank into his stomach. Did she think Amy and Rory hadn’t mentioned her? Did she think she was unknown, unloved, an unwanted reminder of parenthood lost? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was going to say Melody,” Brian said. He approached the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you here to clean up?” she asked, wiping away tears and smearing her makeup with the back of her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you?” he returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said, almost snapping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like me to go?” he asked, a kaleidoscope of anxious butterflies rising in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she whimpered, and then begged “please, don’t go.” She bent in half, elbows on the counter, crying into her hands. He rounded the counter, unsure of how to comfort her, but desperate to. He laid one halting hand on her shoulder blade, rubbed firmly. When her breathing leveled, she gave him a hurried, awkward hug and left the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stayed awhile, turned off the dripping tap. He removed books and trinkets from their shelves and dusted as he went. He heard a sneeze from upstairs every once in a while, the soft grumble of moving furniture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found her in the garden later. She clutched an odd, flat, glowing trowel in her hand, and was stabbing furiously at a clump of weeds he’d noticed earlier. It was one of a few ugly spots maring the otherwise attractive, low maintenance, shrubs and flowers Amy and Rory had planted. He knelt a few feet away and pulled his own trowel out. He saw River’s eyes catch him, saw a small smile flicker across her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember Mels?” she asked, moving over to the next clump of weeds. She pulled what she could with gloved hands. He did the same, tossed them in the bucket that sat between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A rascal, that one,” Brian said, before realizing, remembering. He almost laughed. “She was you too,” he smirked. River’s eyes crinkled at the edges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You used to ask all three of us to help you in the garden,” she smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered it. Amy accidentally uprooted miniature carrots instead of actual weeds, Rory nervously asked where he was allowed to step, and Mels carefully excavated the roots of the invading undergrowth. They laughed about it over tea and biscuits, and then, because neither Amy nor Mels seemed keen to leave, over dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I learned my lesson,” he chuckled, the memory blooming happiness into the cool air. He stuck his trowel into the earth and turned to her. “They have always loved you, River. No matter what you called yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Grandad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finished the garden and returned inside, remembering over tea and biscuits, and then, because neither of them seemed keen to leave, over dinner.</span>
</p>
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